


Pretending It's Not Broken

by NoblehouseofTargaryen (Captain_Shep)



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-game Solas, post Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Shep/pseuds/NoblehouseofTargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one thing in the world post important to Wren and Solas is stolen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretending It's Not Broken

Wren’s heart drops as Cassandra speaks, her eyes full of tears as she looks up mournfully at her Inquisitor. “I’m sorry.” Cassandra whispers brokenly, her hands fluttering as if she wished to reach out and touch the trembling elf before her, but was afraid the simple act of touching her skin would cause her to shatter like glass.

“No.” Wren whispers, her shaking hands rising to cover her mouth as she steps back, shaking her head. Disbelief flooded through her, grief and anguish following without a second thought. “Please anyone but her!” Wren moans, a sob splitting through the stagnant silence of the great hall, her companions looking on with forlorn expressions, watching as their normally unbreakable Inquisitor crashes to her knees before Cassandra.

Wren’s sobs cut throughout Skyhold, bringing all to a mournful standstill as they listen to the sound of her loss. Her arms reach up to wrap around her chest, struggling to hold her body together as she shudders, violent sobs wracking her body with every breath.

Wren tenses as strong arms wind around her back, familiar in their quiet comfort, so used to holding her silently as she breaks, cracks splitting throughout the perfect iron mask of strength she wore. She tries to shake him off, but he remains steadfast, and without even missing a beat, she spins, throwing herself into Solas’ arms to muffle her sobs into the softness of his tunic.

“Did you see anything before she was taken?” Solas’ quiet voice asks, his hand rubbing small circles into her back as she cries, her hands desperately clinging to his back. She hears Cassandra sigh, then shuffling as another steps forward, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“There was another with the one that took her, Cassandra managed to render him unconscious. We have him restrained now.” Leliana’s soft accent carries forward from the bottom of the steps leading to the Inquisition’s throne.

Wren starts and looks up at this, her eyes meeting Solas’ own mournful grey. He raises an eyebrow at her curiously, asking her silently what she hoped to do with that information. She carefully uses him to pull herself to her feet, swiping the tears from her damp cheeks.

She tries to manage her expression into something presentable, but she knows her grief shows plain on her features, rocketing through the hearts of her companions as they look on in pain.

“Show me to him.” She orders as she turns, slowly descending the stairs from the dais, listening as Leliana turns, following her down the aisle of the hall, shadowing her steps as they move towards the dungeon. Wren feels a sinking feeling in her stomach as she walks - every step away from the hall hammers in the realisation that she’s gone.

Wren shoves open the door to the dungeons, sending it flying back with a loud crash as it slams into the cobblestones on the opposite wall. She sees a Tevinter man at the opposite end of the hall flinch aggressively as the sound echoes throughout the dungeons.

She feels anger rise up inside her, pure wrath stemming through her, a bright crimson colour and hot as the middle of summer in Antiva. She storms towards him, pulling the cell door off its hinges with her magic.

The man scrambles back as she barges into the cell like a thunderstorm, ripping apart what little is inside as she grasps him, her anger fueling her strength as she hauls him to his feet, before sending him crashing into the opposite wall of the cell with a groan.

She can feel Leliana and Solas staring at her as she breathes heavily, her hands clenching and unclenching as she stares down at the man, who looks up at her with barely concealed laughter in his eyes, a thin trail of blood seeping out from one of his nostrils.

“Where is she.” Wren growls, stepping forward to grasp the man’s collar again, hauling him up and yanking harshly on his chains. He doesn’t reply, merely staring at her with a tight lipped smile, the kind that one uses when they know they have won, a special smile reserved for children who haven’t been caught stealing from the cookie jar – and for murders who are watching the plan unfold.

Wren snaps at his expression, his insolent silence that tells her nothing of what she needs to know. She draws upon her magic, eyes narrowing as the man stares in abject horror as her spirit blade materialises, dark, menacing and pulsing black with anger.

“You and the one who escaped took my daughter. You’re going to tell me where she is.” She hisses, gritting her teeth as she lowers the sword to the man’s side, cutting a deep line against his supple flesh.


End file.
